


Those Sunken Spaces of the Mind

by mobilisinmobili



Series: Cross My Heart and Hope You Die [5]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex Rider Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angstober, Ben Daniels is the Best Parent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Ian Rider's A+ Parenting, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Yassen Gregorovich Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26910445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: Alex learns that he wasn't as "fine" as he had thought he was, Ben tries his best to help fix the problem, and Ian gets held accountable for what he's done.
Relationships: Alex Rider & Ian Rider, Ben "Fox" Daniels & Alex Rider, Ben "Fox" Daniels & Tom Harris, K-Unit & Alex Rider, Tom Harris & Alex Rider, Tulip Jones & Alex Rider, Tulip Jones & Ian Rider, Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich & Ian Rider
Series: Cross My Heart and Hope You Die [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762225
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90
Collections: AR Angstober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaks/gifts).



> Inspo:  
> Marshmello - Silence  
> Linkin Park - Shadow of the Day  
> Rainbow Kitten Surprise - Devil Like Me

Sentiment wasn't meant for people like him in a field like his. 

It wasn't safe and far _far_ from deserved. 

That much he had accepted sometimes nearer to the front half of the years that had gone by. 

Years of success and failure and _staying alive_ , a feat that demanded a sacrifice. His living meant taking someone else's place. There was no outrunning that demand. It was just how the universe worked. 

But it didn't change the fact that he was _human._ There was only so far he could go in pretending that he didn't care. That he had all but burned his own heart out and nailed the charred mess on Jones' door the day he officially joined, five _oh_ -so-long years ago.

He had left it there to rot, jumping headfirst into his new life. 

Or so he'd thought. But then there was Tom, and there was Ben and K-Unit. And as much as he _abhorred_ himself for it, there was Jack. 

The one who had been there for him, filling in the loose outline of what Ian _should_ have been. An anchor and a guiding light in the beginning when he was so lost, caught up with trying to _not_ go off the deep end when things got _particularly_ bad. 

But now? 

Now she was just memories. Snapshots of a life that had been but ceased to be, snatched away from him as his parents had been. Like Ian. 

And the whole cycle would renew with a new wave of guilt and grief. Jack was his fault and his fault alone, and he knew that his selfish indulgence with Tom was more consequential than he let himself believe. But he just _couldn't_ bring himself to do the right thing. Tom and Ben and the others were the closest things he had to family and he just _desperately_ needed that. 

_Just_ that. 

Just the five people that meant something to him. The ones who had stuck around through the darkest days, by his side to pull him out of the vicious hellscape of his mind. But he knew that it would only make things _that_ much more difficult if anything were to happen, which was why he accepted the sudden emergency mission so readily when he was called in, much to Ben's chagrin. 

But it was the right decision. He was sure of it. He just needed to be away for a while. Focus on something else for a change. Maybe a good high-speed chase could set him straight from the _bizarre_ and uncomfortable low he'd been floating in for the past few days. Purge the strange ruminations from his mind.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" He peeked into the cool of the familiar office. 

She waved him in, signing one last line before capping the ornate pen, shutting the file before paying Alex any mind. 

"You're early." 

"I never left…" 

Jones quirked a brow, but she let it slide. There were more _important_ matters to be discussed. She could always send a note to Daniels later on. God knows the man was one of the biggest reasons Alex had survived in the more _normal_ aspects of life up till now; eating properly and getting some _actual_ rest to name a few points. 

It was reassuring to see. UKSF and SI affiliations aside, Benjamin Daniels was surprisingly good at playing parent. Their dynamic worked well, both on and off the field. And besides what Alex would likely say he reacted accordingly at 21, grouching but still folding to the older spy's parental prodding. 

It was cute. It really was. Which made things all the more difficult. 

"So, why the early morning get together?" 

He settled into his normal seat, the "more structurally sound one" on the left. “Aren’t we supposed to meet later this morning for the final mission simulation?” 

“We are. But something came up a little earlier this morning.”

“New intel?” 

“Something like that. It’s connected to the mission.”

“You’re being _awfully_ ambiguous for five in the morning…”

Jones didn’t even bat an eye, observing the dark circles and ruffled hair in silence. Alex wasn’t a child anymore, that much was evident in the sharpness that he’d taken on after his last bit of growing emphasized by the way he had filled out, mostly lean muscle losing his youthful circles to lines. An uncomfortably close copy of the agent she had all but murdered. She and Blunt and the entirety of British Secret Intelligence. He wasn’t _quite_ old enough to _completely_ fill John’s outline, but it was close enough. 

Of course, she couldn’t remember John without _Ian_ . The two remarkable. A whole damn _family._ And there she was, sitting across from yet another one all _too_ young to warrant having to deal with the fallout of what she was about to tell him. He deserved to know. To have at least _some_ time, albeit _far_ less than what he was due, to prepare himself before he was face to face with it. The shock alone would be tremendous. And there would be other _emotions_. But Alex had always been an enigma, which was good most of the time, but in a situation like this...the scale of the fallout couldn’t be estimated. She honestly had no clue. No one did, not even Daniels. 

So all that there was left to do was to warn him in advance and hope for the best. 

“Mission Control has flagged a possible...hindrance to the operation itself. Specifically to you, Alex.”

“To me…?” 

“They have come to the conclusion that you need to be made aware of this new intel, for your own sake. So that you can make a final decision on whether or not you will be okay with continuing.” 

“We ship out tomorrow morning. Isn’t it a little... _late_ for all of this?” 

“If you choose to not go, or mission control finds that you seem unfit for active duty, they will flag you and will pull you out of their own accord and continue with the secondary plan.” 

Alex sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he stared right back in wary suspicion. It wasn’t like Jones to be so...roundabout. SI and mission control were rarely ever so considerate either. 

“And why would I be found unfit for duty so suddenly?” he countered sharply. 

“The intel that was found, it’s complicated. Shocking at the very least.” 

“Cut the cloak and dagger mess and just _spit it out._ Please. It’s too early for this.”

“As of an hour ago, Langley has confirmed that Ian Rider has been captured, _alive_. He will be arriving back within the next three hours. I'm so sorry, Alex.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Raoul Van der Hav. Danish. Forty eight years old. Investment analyst.” Alex tossed the file roughly back onto the metal table, leaning back in his seat, assessing the uncomfortably familiar stranger seated cuffed to the table across from him. There had been a nose job. A considerable change to the jaw structure as well. But it was the strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes that had  _ really  _ sold it. 

Whoever the hell it was that was sitting before him was  _ definitely  _ not Ian Rider. At least, not the Ian  _ he _ knew.

No,  _ had _ known. 

_ That  _ man was dead and buried. Gone, as far as Alex was concerned. This man, Van der Hav. He was someone  _ completely  _ different. 

An enemy. 

A hostile. 

A goddamn  _ traitor  _ above all things. 

‘Investment analyst’ his ass. The confidential file Jones had given Alex access to in the hours after dropping the shocking news had given him all of the information he needed to know to understand just  _ what  _ exactly it was that the ‘investment analyst’ really did. Who the man  _ actually  _ worked for. 

The list was vaguely impressive in the way that had white hot anger simmering in his gut the more Alex had read. 

“A goddamn  _ assassin _ .” he managed to hiss out. “What? Was being a spy not exciting enough for you?” 

“A family tendency, it seems.” 

Alex bristled at the insinuation. He knew what Ian was getting at. Of  _ course _ the man would know. Especially with his rising ranks in his new found job at the time. And now, years later, he wasn't surprised that  _ that _ particular life decision had spread within the criminal world as well. The enigmatic child spy who had single handedly fucked up not one, but  _ two _ SCORPIA operations, all but dismantling the group through sheer desperation and luck that had lead to the unintended murder of half of the board. 

And if the man had known about  _ that _ snafu, he'd have to have known about the assassination attempt outside the bank where he had nearly bled out and  _ died _ .

“Nearly  _ thirteen  _ years of  _ lies _ and  _ that's  _ what you have to say?" 

"Thirteen years of keeping you  _ safe _ -"

"Of  _ lying _ to me. Of molding me into a goddamn hunting dog. Was any of affection and concern as _family_ actually real? Or was I just a long term game, _hmmm_?  _ You _ trained me.  _ You left me and  _ put me in this  _ fucked up  _ situation , and you abandoned me."

"You had Jack."

"Jack was  _ murdered _ . A civilian casualty that should have never happened because you should have never left." He felt the air squeeze from his lungs at the memory. The firey ball of flames that came after the shockwave  _ boom  _ from the car she'd managed to commandeer. 

"You knew what would happen." He swallowed thickly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. To keep the prickling in his eyes at bay. 

"That they would use me. That I wouldn't have a fucking way out. But you still left." 

Ian didn't rise to the accusation, and the silence was all that was needed to push Alex off of the edge. The pot put to boil a second too long, exploding in white hot rage. 

"SAY SOMETHING!" The furious shout echoed around the room, emphasized by the sudden outburst of anger that had Alex slamming his fist down onto the table, chair clattering behind, knocked over by the sudden movement. 

Ian didn't respond, silently observing the absolute fury in Alex's eyes as he stood, hands clasped into white knuckled fists looking  _ far  _ too tired and stressed for someone so young. A familiar bone deep wariness born of  _ constantly  _ being on guard.  _ Constantly  _ at the ready, wound up for his safety so much as the nameless faceless people he worked to protect. 

That was,  _ had been _ , his job at one point too. 

Loyalty leading to suffering in a thankless job to a crown and country that never  _ really  _ seem to give a damn. Even after all of the sacrifices. He'd had enough. 

Enough of the manipulative game that was British Intelligence. He wanted out, and when the opportunity came, he took it without hesitation. 

And as  _ awful  _ as it had sounded in his head, on the tip of his tongue in his mouth but never uttered; he half hoped that Alex would die young. Painlessly, maybe on the first mission. A merciful bullet to the head. But he'd survived and while he  _ was  _ happy to see Alex alive, surviving time and time again, seeing the deadened eyes and all too familiar aura of lethal danger had something sitting heavy in his gut. A sort of remorse? Pity? 

Something that managed to hammer some cracking blows to the self imposed apathy he had worked so hard to cultivate through his 'missing' years. 

Sentiment meant weakness and weakness was something that would get him killed. So when he approached Gregorovich with a favor and a  _ considerably  _ valuable snippet of information concerning certain classified information on a high ranking individual within 6, he took one last breath and dove in, leaving everything behind. 

Ian Rider, 'a true patriot and a loving brother and uncle' died and was buried and Raoul Van der Hav was born, traveling back to Denmark from a long term business trip. 

There were no 'final goodbyes'. No 'last glance back. He knew what he needed to do, and what he needed to do was to leave. To put as much space as he could between himself and 6 while he prepared for phase two of his full transformation. 

Then months of getting accustomed to his new career path, working to keep himself alive, mostly laying low. 

And now here he was, nearly seven years post mortem sitting across from a  _ strikingly  _ familiar face of a  _ real  _ ghost. 

_ John _ . An almost spitting image, but with Helen's warm brown eyes that had turned to sharp flint, observing and analyzing every moment. Every detail with a methodical coldness that spoke  _ volumes  _ compared to the last time he had seen the boy- _ young man _ . 

"And you survived." he answered neutrally, without a single note of remorse. Logical and straightforward as he had always been. But it hurt so much more than was anticipated. 

Alex snapped his mouth shut, searching Ian's eyes for  _ some  _ sort of clue. Something that could reassure him that not all was lost. But the longer he stared the more evident the truth became and it sent his gut free falling, head spinning in a sudden bought of lightheadedness and the strangest feeling of derealization fro the whole scene playing out. 

He couldn't  _ breathe _ . 

He needed out, _n_ _ ow _ . 

So with one last stabilizing breath, he looked away, grabbing the folder roughly from off the table before stalking back to the door, gripping the handle waiting for security to let him out. 

"You should have stayed dead." He muttered loud enough for the man to hear before yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler-ish chapter!

"I was told that the reason for the closed casket funeral was because of the bullet hole through his bloody head." 

The simmering fury was practically rolling off in waves, underlining the blond's measured words with a  _ dangerously _ sharpened edge. A metaphorical dagger in a knife fight that Jones wasn't feeling all too confident about. 

The series of events had been… unsettling to say the least. They had seen Ian Rider die. There had been reports after reports and a slew of post op clean up to be done post murder, what with the car and the house and the then teen spy to be. By all accounts, the man  _ should  _ have been dead because, while they all knew that SI took a  _ special  _ sort of individual to survive; Ian Rider wasn't heartless. Or he hadn't been before his alleged death. He had stepped up in service not only for his country but for his brother, taking on the baby on top of his already stressful job. And it wasn't as though Alex hadn't ended up well. Well enough, anyway. Well educated, adaptable, an all around good kid who very well could have gone and followed his family legacy to Oxbridge. He had the potential. 

But  _ that _ path had ended the moment Ian Rider had died. And while MI6 was certainly the biggest shareholder of blame, Ian had his part to play as well and the man knew that. He knew what he was doing when he  _ oh-so- _ methodically brought Alex up, almost as a successor to his own post. Beyond suitable for the job. Alex's missions file spoke to that truth. 

So the biggest question was; how had Ian come to  _ willingly  _ choose to abandon his own nephew? The one he had cared for almost like a goddamn  _ son  _ for more than a decade. 

"Was there even a body in the casket to begin with?" Alex clenched and unclenched his knuckles, staring deadpan straight into Jones' eyes making things  _ infinitely  _ more difficult. 

"Yes. There was. We had two separate coroners check as well, Alex. By all means, it  _ was  _ your unc-Ian Rider in that casket-"

"Then why the  _ fuck _ is he sitting in that cell?  _ Alive _ ?!" 

There it was. The  _ gen _ uine emotion she'd been expecting. That frankly  _ every _ one had been expecting. Alex had handled things surpringly well back when he was fave to face with the man, but it was obvious he wasn't as fine as he had let them see. Which, in all fairness was more than understandable.

The truth was cruel at the very least and all that Alex could do was try and accept it, likenothing had happened. Like the last of his own  _ family  _ had  _ willingly  _ abandoned him, burning up any and all opportunity for a bright and "normal" future he deserved. The type of life people like Tom had, flourishing in uni making new friends studying what interested him for a future occupation in a field of  _ his  _ own choosing. There was no choice for Alex. Not now. Not so far down the rabbit hole of secrecy and danger. He couldn't quit now even if he  _ wanted _ to because quitting meant loosing what little security he had. And with as many enemies head made over the years, he couldn’t just  _ disappear  _ like Ian did. He knew  _ perfectly  _ well and so did they.

Jones paused a moment, letting the cold oppressive air spread heavier in Alex's small office. 

"We don't know." She answered calmly. Meticulously.  _ Uncomfortably  _ candid, devoid of the usual brusque omnipresent secrecy so characteristic to their occupation. 

"Rocky beginnings aside Alex, we genuinely did not know. As farms SIS is concerned, Ian Rider died seven years ago. His case and operative status has been permanently shut.  _ That  _ was reaffirmed through an Internal Review meeting." 

"And the Americans?"

"They were- _ are _ as surprised as we are."

"How did they track down a man whose file and status has been permanently shut? If there really wasn't even an  _ ounce  _ of doubt that Ian died, why were they looking in the first place?" 

The stabbing questions began to grow colder and colder, vicious in the way that only time and jadingly paranoid experience could bring. There were just too many holes in the plot. Too many sunken spaces of mind numbing detachment from reality for him to properly digest it all. To accept even a shred of what felt like one of the world's most sadistic practical jokes. 

All smoke and mirrors in some sort of Inception-esque nightmare folding in on itself. 

"Mission control here at Vauxhall along with GCHQ are trying to figure things out but, the Americans have...requested a little time to run through what happened." 

"So no one knows anything at all at this point?" It was more a statement than a question, but Jones still offered a small nod. There would be no point in lying now. They were already too far in the quagmire with nowhere to move but forward.

"I think you should go home, Alex. Take a day or two off-"

"There's less than a day before the op-"

"-That you are no longer rostered for." A firm ultimatum. 

"I'm  _ fine _ !" 

"Mission control disagrees."

"Mission control can go jump off a goddamn cliff. I'm fine. I've been prepping this mission for  _ days _ . I'm not just going to let it-"

"Alex."

"-go to shit because Mission Control thinks I've been too traumatized. All of that after  _ seven  _ years-"

" _ Alex." _

"-I can't just stay here when that  _ bastard _ is sitting all comfortable in his cell-" 

"Alexander John Rider!" 

The sharpness cut through his meltdown rambling. He flinched, focus darting back to Jones' near apprehensive gaze; both calculating and concerned all at once in the weirdest vibe Alex could only assume was  _ parental _ . Almost like Ian all those years back. But with a noticeable addition of  _ actual  _ care. 

She was worried about him, he could tell. But it didn't change his state of mind. It didn't ease the dangerously simmering feeling of painful outrage. He didn't want to admit it, but in all honesty, it hurt. 

It had hurt when he'd first met the man's cold uncaring eyes, lacking even the smallest spark of something.  _ Anything _ . It  _ had  _ been years after all. And Ian was bound to know that Alex had mourned him. That he had turned out to be what Ian worked to form him into. 

But that pain had been nothing compared to the remorseless way the man had minimalized what had been  _ years  _ of pent up terror of death in the line of duty he was pulled into without his consent.  _ "And you survived" _ tossed out almost like a challenge. Like Ian hadn't  _ really  _ expected  _ this  _ sort of outcome; one where Alex survived. 

It was like the punch in the gut he had felt when he had learned the truth about Ian's job. At the very beginning when he was dragged into the darkness that was SIS. Reeling with no air in his lungs hoping to just pack it all up into a box and hide it somewhere in the deep dark recesses of his mind where he kept all of the other nightmare inducing memories. 

But he couldn't do that no matter how much he wanted to. Not when he knew the truth now. 

"Go home. I don't want to see you back here until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. That's an order from your superior." 

Alex didn't argue, schooling his expression back into the cryptically blank mask. 

"Two days, and then I want to see him again."

"Two days." Jones nodded stiffly. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Febuwhump, but have some angst!

Lunch arrived within a rum induced blink of an eye. 

A bottle of cheap rum chased with cold coke and then some  _ awful  _ vodka when he ran out sometime around ten when the silence of the empty flat brought a familiar face to the forefront of his mind. It brought white hot fury as well, bubbling away like acid in his gut.

It was the second set of sharp knocks on his front door that had him snap out of his stupor, fighting past the wobbling ground to get to open the door to stop the damned sound that was splitting his head in two. 

No gun. No weapons. Not even in his right mind or able to support himself much off of the wall. 

A classic cluster fuck of dumbassery that Ian would have certainly berated him for. That thought alone had him lurching, giving him a shot of sobriety enough to undo the locks and rip the door open a smidge more viciously than  _ absolutely  _ necessary. 

" _ Jesus Christ _ …" 

The hand shot out  _ way  _ too fast for him to block in his state, latching onto the door itself to keep it from being slammed shut as it was about to be. As Alex had  _ intended  _ if the damned bastard hadn't been so fast. When had Ben gotten so fast…? The man was like  _ thirty _ , a point his brain just  _ couldn't  _ wrap itself around at the given moment, opting for groggy irateness instead. 

"Have you been drinking?" 

" _ No _ ." 

Ben leveled him a hard stare before sighing, giving way to the  _ clearly  _ drunk pout. There would be no point in arguing. Not now when the blond couldn't even manage to stand straight much less protect himself against the danger that was  _ very  _ much afoot. The danger Alex didn't know about yet. 

Which was why he had dropped by in the first place after hearing about what had happened. A bombshell to be sure. He could get that from the spark noted version Jones had briefed him on when they were briefed on the new situation at hand. 

A new and potentially threatening group. While Ian Rider had turned, he hadn't exactly joined a group, choosing to run more freelance than anything. And while there  _ were  _ groups he had been affiliated with more than others, there were no ' _ SCORPIAs _ '. No big name gangs or groups like that. Just connections. Connections and jobs. Jobs that required a pretty high level of  _ personal  _ responsibility. And with being caught mid operation there was bound to be a displeased client, this time being a mid level drug smuggling cartel who'd suddenly lost out on their main security and defense, the one who kept most of the rest of their defense in line. And for a pretty sum as well. It was obvious they wouldn't be pleased. It just so happened they had connections in the UK, and from there, it wasn't too hard to figure things out. A Rider here and a Rider there. Alex was a target now. Safer off than Jack would have been all things and skills considered, but a target nonetheless, and a  _ plastered  _ one at that. 

Jones had made the right call after all after much deliberation on 'personal space' and 'trauma'.

"What you here?" It was slurred but Ben didn't miss the undercurrent of aggravation. 

"Get in. It's important." 

And with one narrowed eye displeased frown and a gentle but serious nudge from the older spy, he stepped aside and let Ben in, shutting and locking the door hastily behind him.

* * *

"I don't  _ need  _ a damn emotional support  _ babysitter _ !" 

Ben didn't break eye contact at the sudden crescendo. He didn't even blink, stepping forward to gather up the crystal glass and the bottle of rum and part emptied vodka before Alex could get his alcohol induced rage twitching hands on them. He'd never seen the blond so upset, but he  _ had  _ seen his fair share of post traumatic drinking during his time in the military and splintered  _ anything _ was something he wasn't about to take a chance on. Especially with Alex being so...uncharacteristically unstable. 

Alex was never a heavy drinker. Because of tolerance or occupational paranoia or a healthy mix of both, Ben didn't know and he never asked. And Alex never said. It just wasn't a conversation that popped up ever. But watching the gut-wrenching scene play out before him, he couldn't help the sudden anger. Resentful at a man he never  _ really  _ knew until a few hours prior. At the situation as a whole which automatically roped MI6 into the equation. But as much as he wanted to be angry and affronted by Alex's own reckless actions, he couldn't bring himself to be because  _ he  _ knew that it wasn't Alex's fault. 

Twenty one and a fully fledged intelligence operative he may be, but it didn't change the fact that he was still young and that the situation was beyond traumatic. And it wasn't as though he was the best at healthy expressions of emotions. They were all just  _ like that,  _ digging unwanted emotions deeper into what would  _ hopefully  _ remain an inescapable chasm. Because sometimes it was just a necessary means of survival. An unhealthy but highly utilized coping mechanism that kept them all sane. 

Until they couldn't be. Until  _ something  _ big enough came and set off a volcanic eruption, and seven years of lies and abandonment with a side of frigid remorselessness was easily 'enough'. 

And most uncomfortably, he couldn’t help but feel angry at himself. He had siblings, goddamn it. Nephews. He’d mentored younger trainees in the past. But this was  _ Alex _ , the person he’d worked with for nearly seven years. The one person who’d come close enough to be considered  _ family  _ outside of K-Unit. He wasn’t a dad and he certainly didn’t  _ try  _ to be, but he  _ was  _ one of the few steady “adult” figures Alex had in his life and… 

It wasn’t his fault either, but staring down the dulled red-rimmed eyes puffy from crying no doubt, feeling the heavy weight of the bottles in his hands it hit him hard making him wish from the bottom of his heart that he could take Alex away from it all. Or at least share the brunt of the suffering. He wished he could tell the blond that everything would be alright and that there would be an answer. A  _ genuine  _ logical reason as to why Ian Rider did what he did. But he couldn’t do any of that and it  _ hurt _ . 

“Alex-” 

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Are you?” 

Alex flinched, balling his hands into white-knuckled fists. 

“I left when I was told to leave. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Sitting home alone chugging  _ bottles _ !” 

“I can drink whenever the hell I want to! Why the fuck is it so important to you?” 

“Because I  _ care _ , Alex! Because I’m worried, alright?!” Ben retorted sharply, matching the younger spy’s increase in volume, gripping the bottles in his hands. “Seeing you like this after...after whatever the  _ hell  _ that was back at HQ.” he took a moment, breathing in deep, putting the things down on the counter before continuing at a lowered volume. 

“Look, I know that it’s a lot to take in. And I won’t say that I know what you’re going through because I don’t, but I know that this-” he nodded to the bottles “-isn’t the way to go. It’s not. I  _ promise  _ you, it’s not. This kind of recklessness is what’s going to get you killed and I have no intention of letting that happen.” he emphasized, crossing his arms. 

There was a long moment of heavy silence before Alex looked away with a frown, looking a little less sure of himself. 

“I’m fine.” he repeated, more quietly this time but with the same faux sureness. One that Ben had learned to see past through the years.

“You’ve been put on house lockdown.” it was a change of topic at the uneasy stalemate. Something that Ben’s logical side knew took precedence. 

“What…?” 

“As of today, for the next two weeks. The unit’s going to be running security.” 

The blond wiped his face of emotion in whiplash speeds but be it the alcohol or actual trust, Ben could swear he saw a flash of what looked like betrayal before Alex spoke again; “When...?” 

“Within the next half hour. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He left without another word. 


End file.
